


Ioun's Spring

by bboiseux



Series: Critical Role Relationship Week 2018 [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental confessions of possible love, CritRole RSWeek 2018, Dancing, F/F, F/M, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Partying, Slow Dancing, it's complicated - Freeform, magic and truth powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bboiseux/pseuds/bboiseux
Summary: When the Mighty Nein wander into town in the middle of the local Ioun's Spring Festival, it is the perfect opportunity to unwind and relax.  And the perfect time for Beau to play a surprisingly subtle cupid to Jester and Fjord.  But she's about to get help from an unusual (and powerful) source that creates unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome, consequences.For Relationship Week 2018Reading Time:abt 17 mins.





	Ioun's Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this went in a completely unexpected direction. I hope you all enjoy some Fjorester and background, not-quite-there yet Beau/Yasha!
> 
> Technically, there is also some magically-induced truthtelling in this, so please judge your comfort. It's not coercive, in my opinion.

It was the first time they wandered into a town and didn’t find a crisis.  Nothing was burning.  No one was screaming.  No tensions simmered under the surface.  Instead, the door of every house was bedecked with a wreath of flowers (all pastels: pinks, purples, and blues), the aroma pungent and filling the streets (like mama’s perfume, Jester had thought, and smiled) mixing with the yeasty, sugary smells of fresh breads and cakes.  Vibrant banners hung at each corner.  Music (tangy horns and sharp strings) burst through the air.  And, when they found an inn, the windows were open to the air and they were greeted with open arms (only a little encouraged by the beer that flowed freely).

Fjord had asked the barkeeper what the excitement was.  The barkeep had thrown his arms wide and his smile wider and said, “You don’t know about Ioun’s Spring?  Ai, I guarantee you’re in for a treat.  The opening of the flowers is the time to open our minds to all the stories of the world.”

“And also all the booze!” came a cry from the other side of the bar.

“Ai, that’s true too.  You’ve come at a good time.  Storytellers on every street corner.  Musicians in every square.  And tomorrow is Ioun’s Birthday, which means the biggest dance this side of Rexxentrum.”

Jester had practically vibrated through the floor with excitement.  On their way up to their rooms, she said, “We’re all going to the dance, right?  We can dress up real pretty and handsome and dance all night long!”  She did a spin in place, throwing her skirts out around her.

Molly had patted her on the shoulder.  “Oh, we are not missing a party this big.”

Jester jumped in front of Fjord, keeping pace backwards as he looked for their rooms. “And will you dance with me?  It will be fun.”

Fjord unlocked a door and swung it wide.  “Well, I’m not much for dancing, but I reckon I can give it a try for a round or two.”

Jester clapped and rushed off to her room.  Beau followed behind.  She had ideas.  It might take a little help, but that’s what friends were for.

The next morning they wandered the town, listening to stories and sampling street meats.

Molly stood transfixed in front of storytellers for hours, seeming to absorb each new tale (one about a prince cloaked in smoke, another about an angel betrayer who sought her wings, another about a druid hundreds of years old who wandered from town to town helping all in need).  He stood there until he was brimming with stories, overflowing with ideas.

Nott followed Caleb as he searched for bookshops and book carts and book peddlers of every size and type.  They stumbled across a merchant with piles of books overflowing into the street.  Caleb dove in, scanning each book with unnerving focus.

Jester rushed from stall to stall tasting every food she could find, lingering on the sweets (candied plums, sugared walnuts).  Once she tried the chewiest taffy she had ever had and spent the next thirty minutes picking it out of her teeth, talking and pointing out the sights to Fjord the entire time.

Beau frowned around the town and doubled down when she realized that the townsfolks were serious when they said there were no fighting pits.  But she stuck with Yasha who was wandering the town gathering unique flowers that she had never seen before.  Until they came to a flower stall and Yasha’s eyes went wide.

Beau smiled.  It was lopsided and thin, but a smile nonetheless.  “So you really didn’t grow up with flowers, huh?”

Yasha just shook her head and took a tentative step towards the explosion of color.

Beau took her hand and pulled her over to the cart.  “Let me get you something.  Actually, maybe you can help me too.”

By the afternoon, they were back at the inn, preparing for the dance.  The open windows carried the sounds of a band warming up, food carts packing up to move to new, more profitable, positions, and a general hum of excitement and preparation.  Inside, Beau and Jester and Yasha were getting ready.  Beau had let Jester put a little eyeliner and lipstick on her (a peachy red that Jester said suited Beau perfectly), while Yasha had just waved off the offer.  She was content with the flower crown she’d bought at the cart.  Now, Beau was looking Jester over as she swirled in a dress she had bought this afternoon.

“Is it nice?” Jester asked, “Is the color too bright?  Are the ribbons too much?”

Jester was adorable as always, her dimpled cheeks complemented by new bows on her horns and a fresh coat of makeup applied to compliment her blue skin.  The dress was yards of fabric, the skirt bunched to maximize the frou-frou (while keeping a sleeker profile), the top cut modestly and embroidered with complex flower designs that circled and crisscrossed and created a complex lattice work across Jester’s bosom.

Beau wanted to tell her it was too much.  It constrained Jester in ways that were truly un-Jester-like.  Jester was all swirls and chaotic motions and the dress was all order and restraint.  But Beau looked at the tight smile and eager eyes on Jester’s face and she said what was also the truth.  “Jester, you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”  And Jester launched a hug around Beau’s shoulders, squeezing her tight with joy.

When they were done, as they headed for the door, Beau said, quietly, so that Yasha couldn’t hear, “Hey, you know that Fjord doesn’t care about any of this, right?”

Jester laughed. “Oh, Beau, that’s silly.  I don’t dress up for Fjord.  Why would I?”  She pranced down the hall, fighting the construction of the dress at every step and winning.

The rest of the party was waiting downstairs, the bar already empty of all the townsfolk.  Caleb and Nott seemed prepared to lurk, clad in their normal clothes.  Molly was bristling with ornamentation, a cross between a peacock and a porcupine.  And Fjord was cleanshaven and scrubbed clean.  He’d given up his leathers for a formal tunic and pants, all blues and browns.  He said Molly had told him dressing up was customary for these kinds of things (Beau may have made some suggestions).  In his hands was a bouquet of flowers (a mix of blues, reds, and purples; amaryllis, asters and carnations).  He picked at the blue ribbon that bound the stems.

Jester bounded into the room, Beau and Yasha trailing behind.  She gave a twirl for the group, yards of fabric flowing out in a perfect circle.  “Hi, everyone.  Are we ready to go have some fun!?”

“Ah, yeah, let’s get going,” said Fjord.  But first he stepped forward and thrust the bouquet out towards Jester.  “Here you go, darling.  Beau said I should give this to you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” said Beau under her breath, as she facepalmed behind Jester’s back.

Jester took the flowers, looking at them quietly, and then grinned and threw her arms around Fjord’s neck, landing a peck on his cheek.  “Oh, thank you, Fjord!  They are lovely.”

With that, the gang headed out into the streets.

The whole life blood of the town was here for the festival.  Floral decorations hung from every surface.  Streamers crisscrossed the sky, unlit torches hanging, ready to pull the festivities into the night.  The music was already playing, an upbeat provincial song, and half the town seemed to be dancing.  Those who weren’t dancing were eating and drinking in a section of the square that had been filled with tables.  Children weaved through the crowd and around the carts of food, the bandstand, the adults weighed down with mugs of beer.  It was easy to believe that every townsperson was here.

Molly broke off first.  “I’ll grab the drinks,” he exclaimed, making a beeline for the makeshift bar (piled high with kegs).  “Grab a table for all of us!”

Caleb was quick to grab a table on the edge of the festivities.  He moved around the people like they were surrounded by an invisible bubble and it was only natural he would be drawn to the outskirts of any gathering.  When Molly returned with mugs balanced precariously on one another, Nott was trying to drag Caleb out to see what there was to see.  She was failing so far.  The group settled in to enjoy a little drink.  Talking and looking out over the sea of people.

They were just finishing their first beers when the music shifted and Jester’s eyes flashed.  “This is ‘The Mermaid’s Dance!’”  She was on her feet before she finished, tugging at Fjord’s arm.  “Mama gave me a music box that played this.  Dance with me, Fjord!!”  She bounced in time to the music.

“Better do it, Fjord,” said Beau, “You promised her a dance.  You wouldn’t want to break a promise.”

Fjord shot her a dirty look.  “No encouragement needed here.”  He stood and bowed theatrically to Jester.  “I’d be honored to have this dance.”

The two of them vanished into the crowd.

Molly leaned over.  “You’re a shite wingman.”

Beau huffed.  “I’m a great wingman.”

On the dance floor, Fjord and Jester danced to the jaunty rhythm of “The Mermaid’s Dance,” surging one way, feet stomping to the heavy beat, then turning quickly to surge the other way.  As all the dancers swept one way and then the other, the dance floor took on the appearance of the rolling waves of the ocean.

“Fjord!” said Jester, one arm outstretched with Fjord’s arm, the other resting on Fjord’s back, clutching him to her chest, “You’ve danced this before!”

“Maybe a time or two.”

The afternoon turned to evening.  The light of day began to fade.  Song after song ended and, each time, Jester and Fjord picked up the beat and swirled into the dance.  Each time, Jester clapped and smiled as Fjord knew the steps.  Each dance was to be the last and then, somehow, it wasn’t.

Beau, having retreated to the outskirts, was the first to notice that something was off.  As the sky began to dim, she had wandered the festival, watching.  Now, she peered into the encroaching darkness, at first doubting her eyes.  But her head was only slightly fuzzy from drink and her eyes were still sharp.  Mixed with the reds and oranges of the sunset were white and blue lights, almost like fireflies, glittering and swirling across the square.  They fell from the sky, scattering in every direction, floating, bathing everyone in their light, vanishing as they touched skin.  Embers of magic floating on the wind.

“What the fuck?”

An older woman, dark skinned with vibrant silver hair and purple eyes, handed Beau a new mug and said, “It’s Ioun’s blessing.”  She smiled blissfully at the gathered townspeople.  “Once a year, we are blessed with a day of perfect truth.  From sunset to sunset, all touched by her light must tell the truth in their hearts.” 

Bluish-white embers fell on the two of them and Beau watched in horror as, on contact, the light disappeared into her skin.

“Once a year, we can hear the truth of what our neighbors, friends, and family think of us.  And we must speak the truth to them.”

Beau grimaced, shaking her arms desperately, trying to exorcise the motes.  “That sounds terrible.”

The woman steadied Beau’s arms and patted her hand.  “It’s beautiful.  The truth lets us live in harmony with one another.”

“That depends on the truth.”

“Better the cold truths in the open where they can warm and melt than inside where they freeze the heart.”  The woman looked meaningfully over at Yasha, across the way.  “Perhaps there are truths it would be better for you to know.”

Beau smashed back her beer and wiped away the foam with a swipe of her arm.  She regarded the woman suspiciously.  “I think I’ll find my truth the old-fashioned way.”

The woman nodded.  “That requires a trust that is dangerous, but quite admirable.”

Beau looked out at the party, music in full swing, the crowd a swirling vortex of dancing.  Laughter painted each face.  The noise of voice and instruments and feet and laughter mixed to create a sound that was pulsing, but uplifting, never discordant.  And she saw each of her friends in the crowd.  Molly at the center of a crowd of townsfolk, performing acrobatics with his swords.  Yasha sitting to the side, sipping a beer, a quiet smile on her face as she watched children play.  Caleb trying desperately to stay away from people while Nott pulled him through the crowd.  Jester and Fjord dancing a minuet, the music beating through their bodies.

The magic enveloped them all.

“I think this is dangerous.  Especially for people who don’t know it’s happening.”

The woman nodded again.  She was consistently agreeable.  “For everyone else this is part of the cycle of the year.  Perhaps you should warn your friends.”

Jester and Fjord spun around the dance floor, their arms around each other.  From a distance, Beau watched the perfect choreography of their bodies.  They simply flowed together, faces painted with smiles and care.  “Well, I guess it would be okay as long as no one takes advantage of them.”

“I can guarantee that no one will.”

Beau grunted.  “That’s a pretty bold claim.”

“I still make it.”

Beau peered into her empty mug.  “Yeah, well, I’m going to go get some more booze.”  She shouted across the square. “Hey, Caleb!  Word of warning for you!”

The music swelled to a crescendo and then concluded.  Jester curtsied (her face making a mockery of the formality of it all) to Fjord’s bow (equally overblown).  She giggled.  “This is so much fun!”

Fjord rubbed his head.  “I have to admit I’m having a lot more fun than I thought I would.”

Jester pouted.  “Aw, Fjord, did you not think dancing with me would be fun?”  She pulled her skirt up over her knees and gave them a teasing rustle.  “With these legs?”  She danced in a circle, giving her butt an exaggerated wiggle.

Fjord flushed despite himself and began a muttered explanation, but the band shifted into another number.  It was a slow dance that Fjord vaguely knew from his time at sea.  A mournful song called “To My Love Across the Sea.”  It was the kind of song you sang at the end of a long day, when the day promised to keep going, but the night was moving in.  The kind of song you sang when you were sitting alone above board, checking ropes and knots, looking out into the endless ocean.

Fjord stretched out his hand.  “May I have this dance?”

Jester fanned herself with one hand and reached out with the other.  “Why, this is so unexpected, Oskar.  What are your intentions?”

Fjord pulled her close against him, wrapping his arms around her waist.  Jester draped her arms around his neck.

“No need for that Oskar stuff, okay?”  His voice was a whisper by her ear.

Jester squeezed him tight and rested her head on his shoulder.  “Okay, Fjord.”  She rolled his name around her mouth like a candy.

They floated across the dance floor as if borne aloft by a calm breeze.  The motions were effortless, their feet finding the exact space where they were meant to be.  Fjord treasured the way Jester fit perfectly in his arms.

“I think this could be something pretty special,” whispered Jester into Fjord’s chest.

“Yeah, me too.”

The two of them stumbled in mid stride, eyes wide, and pulled away from each other.  They were rocks in the sea of dancers, the other couples floating past on the current of the music.

Then, at the exact same time, they both shouted, “I didn’t mean to say that, but I meant it.”  And then clamped their hands over their mouths.

Fjord was the first to make a move, looking around for some empty space and then grabbing Jester’s hand.  The two of them pushed through the crowd, until they settled into a shadowy corner by a building, the buzz of the party a muted hum in the background.  Both of them were still blushing deeply.  Jester’s hands were tangled around each other, her eyes down.  Fjord rubbed his head and gazed off into the darkness.

“Um,” Fjord looked back at Jester’s hidden face.  “I meant it, but I don’t think we should have said it.”

Jester sniffled.  “You’re fun and really nice to me and I like that.  And I didn’t mean—”

Fjord reached out and lifted Jester’s chin.  Tears brimmed over in her eyes and cascaded down her face.  She jerked away from Fjord’s hand and quickly wiped them away.  “This is stupid.”

“We both said it.”

Jester simply sniffled in the darkness.

“Hey, Jess.”  Fjord leaned down and tried to peer into her face, taking her hands in his.  “This just means we’re interested in the same thing, right?  Doesn’t commit us to anything.  Doesn’t change anything.”

Jester stomped her foot.  “Of course it does.”  There was an anger in her voice that surprised Fjord.  “I only had my mama and the Traveler.  And then I had you.”  She gave a hearty snuffle.  “I trust you.”

“I trust you too, Jester.  More than anyone else in the world.”  He blinked at the unexpected words, but then pushed on.  “I don’t think the possibility of something more will take any of that away.”

Jester was staring intently at Fjord now.  “When I said this could be something special, I meant that I thought I could love you.  Is that what you meant?”

“Well, I guess it was.  Yeah.”

“It sounds nice.”

“And maybe it will be.  No need to rush it though.”

Jester chewed at her thumb.  “Do you want to kiss me, Fjord?”  A little bit of the playful crept back into her voice.

Fjord sighed.  “Yes, I do.  But I have to think it would be a bad idea.”

“But we could have so much fun!”

“I can’t help but think that you’re talking about more than a kiss.”

Jester grinned.  “I always imagined sex with you would be amazing.”  There was a beat and then her face changed to one of shock.  Her cheeks turned a vivid blue.  “I mean—that is—” She broke down into nervous laughter.  “It would be a lot of fun to fuck you.”

Fjord was a deep brown now, his face hot.  “I have to admit I’ve thought about it too and it probably would be, but, well, we don’t need to do anything right now.”  He smiled kindly at her.  “We’ve shared something nice and maybe it will go somewhere, maybe it won’t, but either way this—” He pointed between the two of them. “—this is good.”

She reached out and took Fjord’s hands.  “You know you can be friends and fuck, Fjord.  It’s called fuck buddies.”  She was swinging their arms, stepping closer to him with each swing.  “You know: do you want to fuck, buddy?”  Jester’s smile had gone wicked sharp.

Fjord stumbled over his words.  “Well, ah, I don’t want to say no—"

From across the way, Yasha and Beau sipped at their beers, watching the crowd.  Yasha peered into the shadows in the distance and gave a jerk of her head.  “Looks like your plan worked.”

“Huh?”  Beau followed the motion.  She could just make out the shape of Jester, pinned against a wall, arms and legs wrapped around Fjord, their faces mashed together.  “Well, fuck.”  She took a deep gulp from the mug.  “Doubt I had much to do with it though.  Still, good for them.  I’d like something like that someday.”

Yasha nudged Beau with her shoulder.  “Someday.”

A little half smirk spread across Beau’s face.  “Yeah, someday.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am also [bboiseux on tumblr](https://bboiseux.tumblr.com/).
> 
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